Page 26 of Uxpectedly Ever After

For a long time, neither of us speaks. There’s just the sound of our breathing gradually starting to even out and the distant rumble of thunder as the storm slowly starts to move on.

Banks’s fingers run through my hair and I sigh, letting my heavy eyes close. I’m tucked against Banks’s body like he can’t stand the thought of even a sliver of space existing between us.

I really should be freaking the hell out right now. Panicking about what we just did and all the catastrophic ways this could potentially blow up in both of our faces. But as I lie here, with Banks’s steady heartbeat thumping under my palm, all I feel is this unexpected sense of peace that I can’t remember ever feeling before.

"You good, Freckles?" he asks, his fingers tracing these slow, lazy circles on my bare back now.

"I'm…" I search for the right word and finally just settle on the truth. "Yeah. Actually, really good." I trace the lines of one of the tattoos on his chest. "That was…"

"Mind-blowing?" he offers, a hint of his usual cockiness in his voice.

I nod against his chest, not having the energy to look for better words to describe what just happened between us. We fall quiet again, just breathing together as the storm rumbles off inthe distance. He’s different like this—softer somehow, all that usual cockiness gone. And honestly? I kind of really like seeing him this way.

"We should probably actually talk about what just happened," I finally say, because someone has to be the responsible adult in this situation, and that unfortunate job always falls to me. Sometimes I really hate being this person.

"Probably," he agrees, but his arms just tighten around me, pulling me even closer. "Or… we could just enjoy this for another minute before reality ruins everything."

Maybe it's smarter to have "the talk" right now, get all the awkwardness and consequences out of the way. But I just can't bring myself to ruin this moment with all the reasons we shouldn't have done what we just did. That conversation makes me unfathomably sad and feels way too heavy for my exhausted body to handle at the moment.

Instead, I just curl even closer to him, my head finding that perfect little spot right on his chest where I can clearly hear his steady heartbeat. His arms wrap tighter around me, like they were divinely designed to hold me exactly like this.

"We'll figure it out tomorrow," I murmur sleepily, my eyelids already slipping shut.

"Whatever you want, Freckles." He presses another soft kiss to the top of my head. "I'll be right here."

As I start to drift off, that annoying little voice of reality tries to creep in, whispering all sorts of unwelcome reminders: We've officially crossed a line that can never be uncrossed. Everything between us is different now. Kasen might murder Banks when he eventually finds out what just happened. And he may never speak to me again.

But with Banks's heartbeat thumping under my ear and his arms locked tight around me like he's afraid I might disappear ifhe lets go, I let myself believe that maybe this doesn't have to be just some temporary, heat-of-the-moment thing.

Maybe it could actually be so much more.

I wake up to sunlight assaulting me through my thin curtains.Guess the storm’s over.I'm about to roll over and bury my face in the pillow when I become very, very aware of several things all at once: the heavy weight of an arm slung possessively around my waist, the warmth of another body pressed against my back, and the delicious ache between my thighs.

Oh damn.

Last night comes flooding back in a rush of toe-curling detail. The storm. The blackout. The life-altering kiss. Being fucked up against the wall. Banks ruining me in this bed. The filthy, delicious things he whispered in the dark while he made me come undone.

Holy freaking hell.I had sex with Banks Priestly.

Well, it’s official. My brother is one hundred percent going to murder me. Probably Banks, too, if Kasen gets to him first.

I turn over as carefully as humanly possible, trying not to wake him, but his eyes are already open. Those hazel eyes that saw every single inch of me last night, that now know exactly what I look like naked and begging him to make me come, are currently studying my face with the same unwavering attention he always gives me.

"Morning," he says, his voice a low, husky rumble that sends a fresh wave of goosebumps skittering across my skin from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head. Ugh, I am insomuch trouble.

"Hi," I manage to squeak out. Why the hell do I sound so breathless? I clear my throat and quickly glance around my bedroom, noticing the flashing numbers on my alarm clock. "Looks like the power's back on."

This is so awkward.

"Yeah," he agrees softly, his thumb drawing slow, lazy circles on my bare hip under the sheet, and it feels way, way too good. "Sleep okay?"

"Better than I have in…"Forever."A while.

Something hot flashes in his eyes, a brief flicker of something intense and maybe even a little possessive, before his expression smooths out, becoming more guarded. "About last night…"

And here we go. The awkward morning-after conversation where we both pretend it was just some moment of temporary insanity brought on by the storm and the close proximity. Where we agree to never speak of it again and try our very best to avoid making direct eye contact for the rest of the time we’re stuck living together.

I need to say it first, before he does. Rip off the damn band-aid and all that.

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